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ALVTSF 



ALVISE 



A TRAGEDY IN THREE ACTS 



BY 



PAULINA BRANDRETH 



f Htil«j 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
One Oopy Received 

APR 6 1906 

.opyrlent Entr 




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TO 



ELSIE GERTRUDE ROBINSON 



PERSONS REPRESENTED 



Alvise 

Ugo . . . 

Count du Barberigo 

CORELLO 

Galla 

GlULINI 

Andrea 

Father Lucius . 

Brother Emanuel 

Armand 

Razin . 

Countess du Barberigo 

Corinna 

Maria 



Duke of Lovini. 

Lord of Castalia and chief ad- 
viser to the Duke. 



Noblemen zvith the Duke. 



Captain of the Duke's Guard. 



Guards. 



Daughter of Count and Coun- 
tess. 

A hand-maid. 



Noblemen, Lords, Ladies, Soldiers, Attendants, Moon- 
dancers, etc. The scene lies in Venetia. 
Time, Sixteenth Century. 



ACT I. 



ALVISE 

Scene I. — Guard room in the Palace du Barherigo, 
where the Duke^ usurper to the doge ship of Ra- 
venna^ has sought refuge after having suffered 
defeat before that city. Enter Armand and Ra- 

ZIN. 

Armand. Praise to Jupiter ! the tempest wanes. 
A belt of silver splits the western sky, 
And clouds like broken ranks 
Flee in disorder ! 

Raz. a curse be on the weather ! 
What good if it present a milder face? 

Arm an. What good, say you? Ho ! ho ! you're like 
a mole 
That creeps about on naught but utter darkness : — 
Look you ! will not the smiling elements 
Signal continued flight ? 



12 ALVISE 

Raz. How soon, thou fool, how soon? 
Here do we stay, battered and wrecked. 
Waiting for able-bodied enemies 
To come and spit us on their reeking swords — 
Yet here we wait and wait, 
Harbored in this rank treason teeming hole ! 
I say again, a curse be on the weather ! 

Arman. The Count seems eager to extend 
All hospitality. Never before have I been so regaled 
With tempting victuals. 

Raz. Pah ! thy stomach ! I'll wager thee 

That ere another night has passed away 

Thy glutton eyes will cease to look upon the light of 

day ! 

(Enter Andrea.) 

And. What is it that thou sayest ? 
File not thy wits on dough, rascal ! 

Raz. Sir, I crave forebearance, 
We but held converse on the weather. 

And. Thus liest. Be wary lest a pincers find thy 
tongue. 



ALVISE 13 

The Duke comes here to hold a private audience. 
So keep thy sleepy heads awake, and watch 
One at each door. Go ! 

{Exit Arm AND and Razin.) 

And. Now will I struggle 'gainst adversity 
That seeks to wall us in on every side. 
The Duke is willed to stay until the morrow. 
Wherefore this miserable retreat must shortly end. 
Should Contarini learn our hiding place, 
We'll perish to a man, and he with glee 
Will celebrate the downfall of a righteous heir. 
Ah, no ! it must not be ! I will persuade the Duke 
From such portending folly to abstain. 
Life holds a beaming mirror to youth's face, 
Then shatters it and naught is left 
But emptiness. Alas, I am concerned that such as he 
May conjure up fair visions in his mind 
And laugh when death is near, or shed a tear 
For human suffering. And yet he's strong, 
And burning with ambitious fires. 



14 ALVISE 

Defeat will quench them not! He's reckless, gener- 
ous and noble, 
And now methinks a passion new devours 
His heart — his very footsteps ring with levity. 

{Enter Duke.) 

Duke. Ho! Andrea, good comrade! 

Andrea. Highness ! 

Duke. Well? Where's Corello, Ugo and the 
others? 

And. They come, my lord, on the instant. 
And now for a brief passing moment. 
Listen in patience to what I have to say. 

Duke. Hast counsel drear my wayward ear to lend ? 

Andrea. Forebodings strange — 

Duke {with mirth). Forebodings! thou gloomy 
minded wretch ! 
The devil of misgiving walkest at thy heels, 
Beware ! he'll catch thee yet ! 

And. Nay ! be serious, I do beseech ! 
Ah, they come. 



ALVISE 15 

{Enter noblemen, comprising Duke's escort, Ugo, 
GiULiNi, CoRELLO and Galea.) 

Chorus of Noblemen. Good day, my lord ! 

Duke. Gentlemen, good day. You're prosperous, I 
trust ? 
With courage thronging in fresh hosts to gain, 
Strength from disaster, hope from mortal pain? 

Ugo. Duke, we attend upon your wishes. 

Duke. The Captain here, has gathered us together. 
To argue some new scheme. 
Be seated all. 

And. Highness, I beg that thou dost give me lib- 
erty 
To lay my fears before these gentlemen 
In speech most frank and free from subtlety. 

Duke. Yes! yes! proceed! I'm wearied with this 
waiting. 

GiUL. My lord's fatigued? 

Duke. How's that, Giulini? If I heard aright, 
Thy tones are not to my liking. 
In future frame thy words and voice 



i6 ALVISE 

To a more pleasing smoothness. 

Gal. {to CoRELLo) {aside). Look at his eyes! where 

lurks the dull despair, 
That but a few hours past did mock his wasted pride ? 
And buried power in a bleeding grave ? 
It's gone ! He's born to hope and now methinks, I 

fear 
To love ! Rumors soon find the sly, awaiting ear. 
CoRELLO. Hush ! hear what is being said. 
And. This would I beg your highness to consider, 
That we and our bruised followers to-night 
See another refuge ; one which breathes 
Less poisonous fumes, and where 
We'll find more steadfast hours to succor our lost 

strength. 
The Count {zvhispering) I like not 
Not yet those sleek-faced priests, 
Whose skins are stained with hyprocrisy. 
And whose lank hands alike would bless or — 

Duke. Andrea ! have a care ! 'Tis the church's hoi- 

est order 



ALVISE 17 

That thou rate against, and if o'erheard 
111 fruits might thy fate gather ! 

Ugo. And yet these are no vague suspicions 
Which thus torment his peace. 

Duke. Well? 

Ugo. I, too, as thy chief counsellor, advise 
Speedy departure. What say you, noble gentlemen, 
Wouldst advocate such measures? 

Chorus of Noblemen. Yes ! yes ! 

Ugo. See how each one fulfills the captain's warn- 
ing. 

Duke. What hidden symbol has thus incurred mis- 
trust ? 

Gal. Our bodies rested from the strife of battle, 
Yearn toward fresh deeds of fame and valor. 

Duke. Ah, 'tis nobly said, my friend. 
And yet — 

Ugo (ill a lozv voice). O Duke! let not the meshes 
of this new enthrallment 
Twine round thy better judgment. 

Ugo. Sire, we urge thee to delay no longer. 



i8 ALVISE 

Duke. You're amorous, I see in your desires. 

And. Sweet I^rd ! 'tis for united ends that we do 
strive. 
Thy welfare and our own must not be sold 
To some foul, treacherous death. 

Duke. Ah, well ; let it then be so. 
All your conclusions being found in harmony, 
Wherefore should I ward off their righteous trend ? 
And ere the moon with splendor beaming erst 
Hath shed its lustre on the sleeping world, 
We will away ! 

Brothers ! I thank thee each and every one 
For his dear faith in a long plighted cause 
Which destiny's bleak winds have blown like chaff 
Across a storm-swept sea ; but yet methinks disaster 
Will rise from broken fragments as a whole, 
To strike again ! 

Chorus. Ay ! strike again ! 

Duke, {drawing his szcord from its sheath). This 
heated sword ! shall it lie mouldering 
In a rusted sheath ? 



ALVISE 19 

Chorus (excitedly). No! no! 

Duke. Glory and victory await for him who wields, 
Hope, trust and self-reliance in his heart! 
Who' fearless suffers from adversity, yet does his part. 
Ah, better far that man with spirit torn 
And aspiration gnawing at his breast 
Should struggle 'gainst misfortune and ill tides. 
Loving and suffering, fallen and raised up, — 
Than one who's sunk into an earthy pit 
Of wretched self-content and luxury ! 

Ugo (to CoRELLo). Behold the tensity that's writ 
Upon the faces of these men. 
They love him well ! 

Duke. Like autumn winds that wither lovely asters 
And blast the tender leaves with bitter breath. 
So wintry grief clogs up the ecstasy 
Born of a summer day ; immeasurable depths 
Swim dizzily about our tottering steps. 
Defeat, injustice seek to crush us down, 
But courage stands ! upraised and haloed with its own 
supremacy ! 



20 ALVISE 

GiULiNi (aside). O words! most lovely words, 
most mellow words ! 

Melted from woman's tongue ! 

Duke. May God now strengthen my young grasp 
on Time, 
Make weaker every terror in the soul. 
And give us strength and unity to save 
Triumph and Justice from oblivion ! 

Chorus. Triumph and Justice ! 

And. Hark ! some one knocks ! 'tis ?.c I feared ; 
This tumult has been o'erheard. 
Gentlemen, I beg thee all — 

Raz. (from outside) . Honored captain ! 

And. Well ? what dost thou desire ? 

Raz. Sir, the holy father, Lucius, 
Craves admittance to the Duke. 

Ugo. Damnation ! 

Duke. Bid him enter. 

You're childish in ignoble surmises. 

(Enter Father Lucius.) 

Father Luc. Most gracious Duke and worthy gen- 
tlemen ! 



ALVISE 21 

Duke. Welcome, father. 

Father Luc. I bring a message from the Count. 
Shall I trespass upon your patience 
In delivering it ? 

Duke. Nay, proceed at leisure. 
Time replenishes with an unwearied hand. 

Father Luc. I will not draw too richly on this 
bounty. 
But hasten its swift flow. To-night within the palace 

garden walls, 
Where flowers bloom a maze of honeyed sweetness — 
Shedding their perfume on the dew-stained air, 
And where, 'midst marble fanes and cool retreats. 
Fountains play ever with crystal melody, 
Softening day's tumult to soliloquy — 
There will be held a moonlit festival, 
For ere the silver hours have ebbed toward dawn, 
The Count's fair daughter steps across the threshold 
Of her womanhood. So thus her honored father cele- 
brates 
A memorable event in sumptuous splendor, 
And bids all gathered here to bear attendance. 



22 ALVISE 

Duke. Extend my gratitude to this most whole- 
souled nobleman. 
But beg him to conciliate our absence. 

Father Luc. Ah ! thou canst not come ? 

Duke. Alas ! no — 

Fate's finger points us onward through the gloom 
Of night. Good priest, thou goest so soon? 
Ah, then, I'll ask thee for a farewell blessing, — 
Religion was nurtured at my mother's knee. 

Father Luc. My son, draw near. FU gladly bless 

thee. (Aside.) 
How can this thrice accursed plan be thwarted ! 

(Duke kneels and receives benediction.) 

I must depart in haste to bear reply 

Lest the Count grow impatient. 

May good fortune attend thee and this assembled host 

Evermore — farewell. 

{Exit Father Lucius.) 

And. There's blight in such a benediction ! 

Ah, why didst thou — 

Duke. Art an infidel ? 

To thus blaspheme the church, thy holy mother? 



ALVISE , 23 

And. Nay ! nay ! that I am not — 

Duke. Be less infected with suspicion, then ; 

Court not a pestilence of black mistrust. 

Galla (to GiULiNi). Thou lookest black, my 
friend ? 

GiULiNi. O milk and honey, freely, freely flowing! 

Gal. Nay, cease to scoff. Thy speech I do not 
favor. 

Duke. Good comrades, look ! Here in this cracked 
/ and broken goblet 

(Lifting goblet from table) 

Linger some drops of amber-spiced wine. 

ril spill them on the hearth as a libation 

To future power and sweet prosperity ! 

(Demonstrations and shouting.) 

Chorus. Health, power and prosperity. 

(Duke pours out wine and casts goblet from window) 

Duke Thus will despair be shattered ! 

And. (aside). Predestined fate ! Tis blood! 
(Pointing to wine.) 
curtain. 

END ACT I. 



^ 



ACT II. 



Scene I. — Apartment in the Palace. Corinna alone. 

Time of day, late afternoon. 
Corinna. And so the evening flecked with molten 

beams 

Grows warm and lucid. Jove no longer speaks 

In thunderous omnipotence ; his wrath at last has drunk 

Its fill of terror from the earth and sky, 

Which now embrace in sweet serenity. 

Come, twilight, breathe thy coolness on this cheek. 
{Pauses and leans out of window.) 

Oh ! I am bewildered by an unwonted joy ! 

In one swift day to find a paradise! and what care I 

If this night marks the ending of my maiden days. 

That, like sweet wraiths, slip into the dim past. 

Old hours ! How soon forgotten and outcast ! 

27 



28 ALVISE 

But why, ah ! why has this fair stranger shaken 
Every fibre in my being? Why do these veins run 

fire when I see 
His clear, pale brow and eager form approaching? 
Alvise ! Love has but hungered till thou camest 
To pour its flood into the fleeting current of life's 

river. 
Time ! all consuming fraught with deadly purpose, 
I fear thee not! No! nor the vain adherents to thy 

cause — 
Despair ! hide thy tormented countenance afar. 
Anguish ! remorse and pain, hence all ! 
In this triumphant and dear treasured moment ! 
And death ? Ah, me ! I had not thought of that. 
It comes like a swift, unrelenting shadow 
To darken brightest sunlight ; a grim foe. 
Sunk in the future's dense obscurity, 
There lingering to wreck these earthly joys 
And tear our hopes into a thousand atoms. 
That scattered, drift upon an aching sea 
Of famished solitude and lone suffering — 



ALVISE 29 

But cease to grieve, my soul, for is not this 

The appointed hour when one beloved comes? 

He rests another night within these walls, 

And then, alas ! Oh, bitter parting ! 

(Voice outside) 
Mother ? 

Countess (outside). Yes, daughter; open. 

Cor. (aside). Heart, wilt thou thy secret now con- 
fess? 

Nay, keep it hidden warmly yet a while. 

Sweet mother (opening door), I'm so happy. 

Countess. Dear child, thy mood reflects mine own, 
« and yet I feared 

The storm might temper the full sweetness of thy birth- 
day eve. 

CoR. Have, then, all preparations been completed ? 
Countess. Yes, all ; the feast, the dance and moon- 
lit spectacle 

Will rival expectation ; but now I haste to tell thee that 
thy father. 

Swayed by an impulse, the source of which I know 
not — 



30 ALVISE 

Desirest th^t ere the twelfth hour has tolled within the 

tower, 
Thou quit the scene of revelry. He says 'tis seemly 
To thus announce the modest incline of thy unveiled 
womanhood. 
Cor. Doth he desire it so, say you ? How strange ! 
To take myself into my chamber's solitude 
While yet the moment lacks fulfillment in maturity ? 
I would obey him, though, and yet methinks 'tis strange 
indeed ! 
Countess. Ah, well, fret not ; the festival will be 
Nearing the end of its supremacy. 
So ease thy rancor in contentment's arms. 
Farewell. I must away, for duties press 
Most urgently upon me. Farewell. 

Cor. Farewell ! 
How strange! (Exit Countess.) 

Ah, me ! where does he keep himself ? 

(Soft knocking without.) 
Enter, whoever knocks. 

(Enter Maria.) 



ALVISE 31 

Mar. 'Tis me, my lady. Brother Emanuel waits 
without ; 
Shall I admit him ? 

Cor. Nay, I would not be disturbed. 
Yes ! yes ! what stimulates distraction thus — 

Assuredly, admit him ! 

I' 

Maria. Good, my lady. {Exit Maria.) 
{Enter Brother Emanuel.) 

Brother Eman. Madam, this is an honor that I 
had scarce hoped for 
Knowing the import of these winged moments. 
Thou art alone? 

Cor. Ay, quite alone, and here have I been closeted 
For full an hour, swathed in most serious thoughts. 
Be seated, pray, near by this balcony. 

Brother Eman. How fragrant is the breath of wan- 
ing day. 
Steeped in the earth's fresh rain-soaked purity, — 
See, now the mellow purple haze 
That gathers to enwrap with dear repose 
Yon fertile plains, lifting their level brows 



2>2 ALVISE 

Against the sunset stain. 

Cor. Brother, dost thou remember 
When I was still a very youthful maid 
How oft we plodded with dull Latin here together? 

Brother Eman. Ah, yes ; the sentiment that's rip- 
ened on the husks of years 
Like kernels sweet that ne'er their sweetness lose. 

CoR. And then to ease my languor thou wouldst 
read 
Creations of my namesake's poesy. 

Brother Eman. O, thou wert ever 
An apt and eager scholar, thirsting much 
For golden poetry. 

Cor. 'Tis dearer to me now than it was then. 
Most wonderous bark ! that bears the tired soul 
Unto a land of rest and solitude, 
That soars and drifts upon a rainbow cloud, 
Far from the earth's contaminating fumes. 

Brother Eman. My lady, art thou quite alone? 

Cor. Assuredly ! but wherefore is thy keen anx- 
ietv ? 



ALVISE 33 

Brother Eman. The Duke, — 

Cor. Ah! 

Brother Eman. Departs this night! 

Cor. How sayest thou, good brother? 
The Duke departs this night? 

Brother Eman. 'Tis true. I came here purposely 
to tell thee of his mad decision. 
Dost thou love him? 

CoR. Ask me no more ; — 

Brother Eman. Ah, then, alas, the peril is most 
dire. 

For if his flight is urged before the morrow, 

Death and destruction will in truth consume him ! 

CoR. (zvith emotion). O gods! who told thee this? 

Brother Eman. Thy father's secret allies lurking 
without, 

Conveyed it to his ears. They say 

An armed host has been sent forth 

By Contarini ; and these now hidden lie 

Along the route the Duke is sure to follow. 

Yet if he lingers still another night 



34 - ALVISE 

They will depart, being perchance discouraged 
With their fruitless vigil, then might he escape, 
Under a cloak of greater safety. 

Cor. He shall not go tonight ! 
I will prevent it! 
Alas, he must not die ! 

Brother Eman. I came here but to warn thee — 

How stifling grows the vaporous air ! 

{aside zvildly). O mortal conscience writhing in du- 
plicity ! — 

Methinks there's someone at the door, I hear 

' Low voices, murmuring. 

Cor. The blessed Virgin guard thee for thy warn- 
ing,— 

On humble knees will I give anxious prayer 

To keep the Duke from his determination. Brother! 

I would kiss thy hand in very thankfulness ! 

Brother Eman. Nay! nay, kiss it not — 
{Enter Maria.) 

Maria. 'Tis the Duke, my lady. 

Brother Eman. I go, remember ! 



ALVISE 35 

(Exit Brother Emanuel.) 

Cor. Now if I tell him all that I do know 
Will he be mirthful at my fears? thinking perchance 
This priest does not speak truly or has learnt 
A falsity from other tongues ? 
Fear is a shadow that he ne'er would heed 
And should he think his enemies without 
He'd go to battle with them, nor could most wild 

entreaty 
Detain him. Ah me ! I must devise 
A subtle and more winning argument. 

(Enter Duke.) 

Duke. Sweet lady ! the day has been a laggard, dim 
and drear 
Without thee ! and the slow hours have clung 
Listless around me like a starved host ! 

CoR. Already twilight slips an ebon mask 
Over its paling features, and yet since dawn 
Has been eternity! (They embrace.) 

Duke. The loneliness of love ! Ah, fair Corinna, 
I fain would never leave thee! 



.36 ALVISE 

Cor. Here have I lingered though many changing 

moods, 
Sometimes as bhthesome as a Httle child 
Whose spirit wears no other heavier burden 
Than that of happiness ; Again an ecstasy most rare, 
Would leap into my mind as a swift dream 
Waves o'er the hollow void of sleep and presently 
Gray clouds of melancholy would my soul obscure. 

Duke. Let me then snatch these dark intruders out. 
Ah, now do I behold the searching spirit 
That dwells serene yet sadly in thine eyes. 
All through the night, dear love, I waked and could 

not sleep. 
Those eyes they gazed at me from out the quivering 

deeps 
Of darkness. I was content to lay 
And drink the bliss of their beloved power, 
And soon the noise of strife that battled still within 

my seething brain, 
Grew fainter. Tranquillity and peaceful intimations 

stole 



ALVISE Z7 

Upon my senses, weariness forsook these limbs, while 

ever nearer drew 
Thy eyes as they do now, and soon I sunk 
Into a dream-fraught slumber. 

Cor. O dreams ! inwoven with immortal bliss ! 
Duke. Didst ever dream of me? 
Cor. Long, long before thou camest in reality. 
Duke. Whisper it in mine ear. 
Cor. Ah, well, 'twas thus: Methought I wandered 
o'er a plain 
Dim, vast, receding, a- bare endless waste, 
And as with weariness I journeyed on 
There swept a sudden change, a marvelous trans- 
formation 
As though from misery to exultation 
The soul had risen. A shaft of burnished sunlight 

fell 
Through a cool grove, harbored by mighty trees 
Vine-clad with canopies of whispering leaves 
And in the perfumed air bird voices rung, 
Melodiouslv. Delved in the emerald shade there stood 



38 ALVISE 

A fountain twined by a bloom of roseate hue, . 

And trembling with the spray that silver clung 

Upon the marble. Ah, it was a spot 

As hallowed as some fane or sacred shrine 

And close beside the water's crystal flow, 

There leaned a youth — beautiful in grace and form, 

A very god he seemed and yet a human loveliness 

shone forth 
From his illumined and seraphic countenance 
Hearing my footsteps from the fount he raised 
His meditative glance, then beckoned me 
And spoke in accents most alluring sweet — 
''Draw near, O maiden from a tortured earth, 
Come, bend thy fair face o'er this beauteous fountain.'' 
So saying, he advanced and drew me toward 
The curved basin, where the water lay 
Like as a woodland pool, tranquil and motipnless. 
An eagerness, a breathless passion stirred 
Within my breast, and gazing deep into its depths 
I looked ! Behold there was mine own, but O, beside 
it stood 



ALVISE 39 

Another face ! 

And it was thine ! 

The youth then Hfted up his arm and cried, 

'Thou seest two ? O, happy mortal, thou hast found 

indeed, 
The true reflection of thy human life. 
Many come here to seek a heavenly bliss, 
Few find ; they see but one reflected there." 
"And who are thou ?" I asked. He gently smiled and 

said, 
"I am Eros, So hast thou sought and found 
The Fountain of Eternal Love." 
All vanished at his words, ^ 
And I awoke. 

Duke. O, that the vain conceit and folly of the 

world, 
Its pangs and groaning prayers and fruitless toil, 
Were cast into the Lethe! What's life but sleep. 
An ugly desperate sleep, fraught with Love's dreams, 
What can death be but an awakening? 

Cor. Eternal dawn ! delivered from aught but light ! 



40 ALVISE 

Duke. And yet since first I saw thee yestcr-eve 
My spirit has been blessed ; a new born vigor 
Has raised from ruin the emblems of decay. 
I'm whole again! made whole by thee, dear one! 

Cor. I burn with very wakefulness. 

Duke. Tlie present as it slips and glides away 
Leaves me woefully bereft. Tonight must signal my 
departure. 

Cor. How sayest thou, my lord? So soon? 

Duke. Alas, my comrades urge it. 

Cor. O desolate eve ! contending against hope 
An aching bitterness already seizes me 
Ah, leave me not awhile. 
Wait, I implore thee, wait until the dawn 
Blazing with embers of celestial fire 
Makes light and glorious thy onward course. 
Faintness oppresses me — 

Duke. Lift up thy head, I cannot see thee so. 
O cease to grieve. I'll linger through the night, 
Thy memory shalt be my morning star. 

CoR. Thou stavest until dawn? 



ALVISE 41 

God, I thank thee! 

Duke. This night we will forget all else save hap- 
piness. 

1 shall not brood upon or see 

Those sombre figures standing by the brink of des- 
tiny, 
With linked hands, grim and infamous. Despair, 

Defeat ! 
Close bonded in their hideous relationship. 

Cor. Speak not of either, I beseech thee 
They're black and terrifying! 

Duke. Ah, well, 'tis true that if the heart is strong 
They cannot be but weak and paltry tyrants. 

Cor. Hark ! does thou not hear a soul-inspiring 
melody 
That drifts and lingers on the moon-frothed air? 
Methinks it is the minstrels. 

Duke. O music born of Orpheus; most fruitful 
balm, 
Conceived of passion and beatitude. 

{They go to the balcony and lean out.) 



42 ALVISE 

Cor. Behold the moon ! an iindimmed lustre plays 
As liquid silver o'er the shrouded earth. 
Where peace unseen wanders in solitude. 

Duke (aside). Ay, peace, unseen, unheard, un- 
known, 
Most damned delusion ! 

CoR. All the world is peace and you and I, 
Are we not peaceful, too ? 

Duke. Ah, yes ! there is one peace unutterably 
divine. 
When thus I feel thy clasp and press these lips to thine. 

(Kisses her.) 
Curtain. 
End Scene I. 



Scene II. — Hall in the Palace. Enter Count, Noble- 
men, Father Lucius,, Brother Emanuel^ Guards. 

Count. Pester me not, good priest ! 
My mind is ripe in its decision, 
Riper than was Achilles's when he sat 
Within his tent upon the Trojan shores. 
Unbeggared by confusion; it wanders not to seek 

another will, 
Nor like a lover does it fickle grow ; — 
(To Brother Emanuel.) 
Hast thou seen my daughter ? 

Brother Eman. I have but quit her presence. 
Count. Well, was she in any wise affected by thy 

warning? 
Brother Eman. Alas, she was most woefully dis- 
tressed. 
I lingered and o'erheard their conversation. 
She did persuade the Duke by clever wiles. 

Father Luc. He goes not then, say you? 
Grant that his cursed soul 

Will find the deepest hell ! 

43 



44 ALVISE 

Count. She'll soon forget him ; — 
Woman is like a flower that wilts and fades 
But blooms again when memory's winter's done. 
Dost think suspicion wavers in her thoughts, 
Or yet the Duke's? 

Brother Eman. Both seem quite free from aught 
but happiness. 

1ST Nobleman. Hah! hah! the Duke! He's inno- 
cent as water! 

2D Nobleman. He'll have to quafif his innocence 
methinks. 
A bitterer draught were hard to find. 

Count. Such tyrannous ambition must be quelled, 
'Tis monstrous that a puny usurper 
Should live an hour to provoke the Doge ; 
He's like a moth around the candle's flame, 
Corinna is the flame and yet he knows it not. 
O wise and wondrous youth, cleverly hast thou leaped 
Into a hornet's nest ! 

(Laughter.) 



ALVISE 45 

Think you not that Pluto will o'erflow with gloomy 

mirth 
When he beholds him in the helpless toils 
Of the Eumenides ? 

Brother Em an. My lord, thou sworest not to kill 
him if I conceded 
To thy wishes ! 

Count. I slay him? O never! dreadful thought; 
Wherefore would be the import of such a deed ? 
I will but place the bonds about his neck. 
His torment shall be eaten at Ravenna. 
Brother Eman. Will they destroy him? 
Count. Ho, ho, you're much concerned about this 
paltry traitor. 
A rat's a rat when caught within a trap. 

{More laughter.) 
Brother Eman. Perfidious moment! Most wretch- 
ed, base betrayal ! 
May devils twist this wicked heart of mine. 
O God. have mercy on a completed and portending 
sin! — 



46 ALVISE 

Repentance comes too late ! 

Father Luc. What now, brother, why dost thou 
muse alone? 
Beware ! lest thou grow weak and cowardly 
In the performance of thy duty. 
If the Pope, — 

{Enter Servant.) 
Servant. A messenger, my lord. 
Count. Admit him. 

{Enter Messenger.) 
Thou bearest news, sirrah, from Ravenna? 
Draw near, deliver it. 

Messenger. INIost gracious Count: the honorable 
Doge, Contarini, 
Concedes to thy request most eagerly 
And bids me tell thee that an armed host 
Is now proceeding here. 

Count. Good ! thou art dismissed. 
{Exit Messenger.) 
The knot at last is tied, only the hours wait 
For the conclusion of this enterprise. 



ALVISE 47 

These soldiers I'll secrete within the hollow wall 

That stands between the garden and the plain, 

And when the midnight bell rings out 

Like hungry vultures they'll silently swarm forth 

To seize upon their prey. 

My friends, until that moment doth arrive, 

Fortune w411 smoothly glide upon its course. 

The softly tempered moonbeams in the glades 

Shall bind with rapturous spell the revelers, 

Soothing distrust and fear, banishing all but mystic 

levity. 
Methinks it is a fruitful opportunity 
For Justice to reap harvest. 

Father Luc. O honored Count, 
Hast thou forgotten the Duke's followers, 
Equipped with steel and vicious to the core ; 
Will they not prove a barrier? 

Count. Thy vision, father, is I fear enclosed 
within a small and meagre area ; 
All but a tithe of his devoted host 
Will scurry hence tonight; their courage ebbs. 



48 ALVISE 

As likewise will their blood, when they are set upon 
Ere a league has fallen from their feet. — 
Annihilation will serve this night with future dust, 
So cease to curdle fancies in thy brain. 

Nobleman. The church will honor highly this 

performance. 
Count. Let all lips sealed be, 
And now most quietly withdraw for preparation. 
Thou, brother, I appoint to watch rriy daughter, 
Lest when her lover is bound and borne away 
She might commit some folly in dismay. 
Good even, gentle lords. 

(Exit Count.) 
(Father Lucius to Brother Emanuel.) 
Father Luc. Beware of thyself! beware lest 
treachery sow 
Its blasted seed within thy woman's heart ! 
(Exit Father Lucius and all but Brother Eman- 
uel.) 

Brother Eman. Is there no mercy when the soul's 
decay 



ALVISE 49 

Grows dark and terrible, flying before itself, 

Driven and torn and panting for deliverance, 

Seeking to hide in a chaotic mass of nothingness? 

O torture, born of cowardice and sin ! 

Worse than a thousand deaths ! 

Corinna ! I love thee ! yet with unshaken hand, 

I've seared thy mortal happiness, his fate and thine! 

holy V'irgin, have pity on my wickedness ! 

A fearful yearning rends me through and through, 

Scatters, mangles and crushes every hope. — 

{Frenziedly.) O God, I fear 

That something more bhck and awful will attend this 

night ! 

1 fear that she — 

Thou hideous moon ! thou bloody, horrid orb ! 
Whose cold light glares and freezes up my brain, 
Thou symbol of death, disaster and insanity ! 
Away ! I curse thee ! thy rays devour all else 
Save awful apprehension. Oh, why has misery so 

many hateful eyes? 
I'll end it all in sweet oblivion ! 



50 ALVISE 

{Seises poinard from table.) 
Ah, heavens, I am afraid ! the icy steel ! 
The blood ! the agony ! 

(Throzvs it from him.) 
What do I now behold crawling from yonder corner? 
A loathed form that shudders and twists and writhes ; 
'Tis the incarnation of a damned spirit! 
See how its hands reach toward me. 
Hence, touch me not ! Accursed mortal weakness ! 
A fiery mist seethes up before my sight. 
I'm blinded ! Corinna ! help ! 

(Staggers and falls.) 

CURTAIN. 



ACT III. 



Scene I. — The Palace Garden. Moonlight. Enter 
Duke and Ugo. 

Duke. 'Tis empty 

And silent as a grave ; the company methinks 
Linger within the hall. Corinna's there, — 
And I am here, a dearth of solitude divides us, 
Yet it is sweet to stand beneath the heavens. 
Blue vaulted and uplit with tender light. 
The stars are blessed fires that burn out 
Monotony, and quench the spirit's thirst for earthly 

sign 
Of immortality. Thou dost keep silent, Ugo, 
Why so? Art weary of this meditative prating? 

Ugo. Nay, but, — 

Duke. Thou wearest a most doleful countenance. 

Ugo. My lord, art still unmoved? 



r.j 



54 ALVISE 

Unyielding in thy heart's determination? 
Would to God I could persuade thee different! 

Duke. Well, what alarms thee so? 

Ugo. They've gone ! 

Duke. Who? 

Ugo. All but a handful of thy followers. 
O Duke, I beg thee quit this wretched spot 
Before it grows too late. Alas, the toils wind closer. — 

Duke. Now is my faith most utterly undone ! 
Thus am I left alone ! 

Ugo. No, not alone. 

Duke. Thou speakest truly ; the tension has been 
wrung 
Upon the cord that binds fidelity. 
Theirs broke, but thine has held. 
Base palterers ! 

Ugo. Does remember thou hadst sworn to go ? 
And but an hour after reverted thine agreement? 

Duke. I know not which is most possessed with 
madness. 
They or I. — Did any remain except thyself? 



ALVISE 55 

Ugo. Andrea, Corello, and a dozen more. Giulini 
fled. 

Duke. I knew it ! He ever had a restless traitor's 
eye. 
O gods ! the world is falling from my feet. 
Misfortune, desolation and disgrace 
Seek but to drag me down. 
Humanity is tinted every hue, 
And yet how hard to find a color true 1 
Hypocrisy, that self-destroying bane. 
Devours all ! 

Ugo. Ah ! speak not so bitterly, 
There is yet time. 

Duke. 'Twould violate my vow to her. Ah, never ! 
Love is far better than a faithless host. 
I'll stay. Ask no more ! 

Ugo. Heaven protect thee ! 

Duke. Nor can I yet believe that this most generous 
Count 
Plots aught but kindliness. 
Go if thou wilt, good friend, 



S6 ALVISl' 

My mind's made up. 

{Flare of trumpets.) Methinks the Count and his 

gay followers 
Are coming. Let us advance and meet them. — 
I'm done with suffering for a little while. 

Ugo. 'Tis well. {Aside.) Nothing will blast his 
trust. 
He would believe the devil. 
Only a chasm gapes before him now. 
But. I am old ; death will not be unwelcome. 
{Enter Count, Countess, Corinna, Andrea, Corel- 

Lo, Lord, Ladies and Noblemen, Attenjants, Pages, 

etc. Music. ) 

Count. Greetings, most honored friends, sweet 
lords and ladies, 
Thrice welcome to this moonlit gathering 
That celebrates Corinna's birthday eve. 
Welcome to sumptuous feasting and dancing and 
revelry. 

Countess. Ah, here's the Duke. 

Count. Sir, we are most highly gratified. 



ALVISE 57 

Hast thou and all thy noble followers 
Been well attended? 

Duke. Fair Lord, I thank thee and thy generous 
house 
For all attention. 

Countess. My Lord, we hope thou wilt this night 
make merry, 
And drown misfortune in a warming draught 
Of pleasure — 

Duke. Madam, I thank thee. 
Count. Good even, gentlemen, 

Greeting, all. {They pass on.) 

Duke (to Corinna). Dost thy dear vow weigh 

heavily ? 
Cor. My lord ! how should it ? Ah, thou art mirth- 
ful. 
Duke. There's naught but beauty now that I can 
see 
The radiant night and thee ! 
CoR. Alvise! 



58 ALVISE 

{Enter Father Lucius.) 
Father Luc. {to Count aside.) Nothing awaits 

but the premeditated moment. 
Count. Hush ! ears may be Hstening. 
Father Luc. All have fled ! except a paltry few — 
Count. 'Tis well. The soldiers are in readiness. 
Father Luc. Behold the lovers ! 
Count. Ah, thus to see my daughter! Soon will 
she be 
Delivered. 

Duke {to Cor.). The stars, the moon, the odorous 
scents that roam, 
Bring to each sense a quickening of reality. 
And mystic thoughts like aerial tossed emblems, 
Fan sorrow's brow with wings of ecstasy ! 

CoR. How wan and pallid is thy cheek, my lord, 
Now that the moon falls tenderly upon it. 
Ah, speak, tell me what woe, — 

Duke. Lost hopes! lost day and night of youthful 
buoyancy ! 
All lost but love and thee, — 



ALVISE 59 

Cor. What cruelty hast sealed up , 
Thy heart ? 

Duke. My thoughts are broken and in fragments 
drift 
Like cloudlets torn from a ragged rift 
That heavily leans on the dull horizon. 
But cease to be distressed. I have one heavenly gift. 

Cor. Behold ! the dancers come. 
Let us secrete ourselves within these fragrant walls, ' 

{They enter a pavilioned bower.) 
(Enter Moon-Dancers, singing. Faint Music. Cho- 
rus of Dancers.) 
O wondrous moon ! shine evermore 
Come, spirit, that we may adore 
Thy sacred beams ; above us soar — 
In seraphic dreamland, — 
Where Love's cherubs hand in hand 
Leap and dance, a joyous band ! 

Hither Orb ! O silver ray ! 
Bathe the soul with mystic day, 



6o ALVISE 

Away! ah, never more away. 
Let thy iridescent light 
Play upon the waves at night 
That seek the shore in gentle flight. 

World of dreams where Nyx dwells 
Pale, bewitching, wrapped in spells 
Gliding through her starlit dells. 
Sweet goddess, shower earth with bliss. 
Never again that we may miss 
The tenderness of Morpheus' kiss. 

Sphere wrought from a heavenly dew, 
Old world that renovates the new 
With thy purity our hearts imbue, 
Ride upon the cloudless sky, 
Banish every human sigh 
And shine unto eternity ! 

Cor. Ah, what was that? 
Methought I heard a sound 
Muffled and strange behind us herel 



ALVISE 6i 

Duke. 'Twas naught, perchance some drowsy bird, 
Awoke and stirred. 

Cor. O heavens, mercy, it smote my ear again. 
A human sob. 

Duke. Come forth, thou wretched clown, 
Seeking to frighten lovers' revery. 
Come forth, rascal, or I will drag thee out! 
Hah, hah, what have we here ! 

(Tears aside a screen of floivers disclosing Brother 

Emanuel.) 

Brother Eman. Hush ! I beseech thee speak not 
loudly so. 
O God, the hour ! the cursed impending hour, 
It groans and shrieks within these haunted ears. 

Cor. Brother, why does thou weep and rave thus 
wildly 
With haggard countenance? A terror seizes me. 
What evil has engulfed thee? 

Duke. He's mad; 
Come forth, thou villain ! 



62 ALVISE 

Brother Eman. Too late! too late! 

Cor. Now am I o'ercome with dreadful fear 
At thus beholding such a tortured sight. 

Brother Eman. The bell ! the bell ! I hear it ever 
tolling, 
Crashing and pealing as if frenzied hands 
Tore at the ropes. O mercy, leave me go ! 

Duke. Where's Ugo? 

Brother Eman. Doom walks apace! 
Dost thou not hear the bell ? 
(Sudden commotion in the garden. Music ceases 

and an abrupt silence falls, above which may be 

heard the midnight tolling of the bell in the Tower.) 

CoR. A palsy racks these limbs ! it is the hour, 
My father bade me to retire. — 

(Voice from distance) Beware, my lord! there's trea- 
son broken loose ! 
Ohelp! I'm killed.— 

Duke. 'Twas Ugo! (Leaps out.) 

Count (advancing). Seize him! 

(Soldiers appear from all sides, confusion.) 



% 



ALVISE 62, 

Duke. Ho ! ho ! I see an eager host before me, — 
Weltering in rank treachery. So they were right 
And I, alas, a fool ! {Draws szvord.) 
Sweet death ! most glorious ruler of infinity ! 
Defying ignominy and shame , 
Assist me now! (Fights.) 

Count. Nay ! spare him not if he resists, 
Down with all traitors ! 
(The Duke is wounded^ disarmed and overpozvered.) 

Cor. (rushing to him). Away, base murderers! 

Away ! 

Leave him ! 

Duke (faintly). Draw near; a pall of darkness 
thickens, 
I cannot see, I cannot — (Dies.) 

CoR. So! thou art dead. (Staggers to her feet.) 
Fear not, I follow thee, anon. — 

Brother Eman (zvildly). Hail death! hail beaute- 
ous bloody night ! 
CoR. O treacherous world ! 



64 ALVISE 

Thy cup still holds one drop of sweetness — 
I'll drain it to the lees! {Snatches the Duke's fall- 
en sword.) 
Count. Stay her hand ! 
Cor. Thou art too late, — 
So trust at last will find security! (Stabs herself and 

dies. ) 
CURTAIN. (A cloud glides across the moon.) 

END. 



POEMS 



% 



POEMS 



BY 

PAULINA BRANDRETH 



To waking lioui's thou seem, 

The sweet fulfillment of a dream, 

And out from sleep arise 

Like dawning skies, — 

Thus o'er life's night-bound plain. 

Thou bringest light again. 



CONTENTS 



JUPITER . 










71 


CONSOLATION . 










n 


THE GODS OF WINTER 










74 


TO A FRIEND . 










75 


FAREWELL TO SUMMER . 










n 


TWILIGHT 










. 78 


TO MARS 










8o 


REMORSE 










82 


TIME . . . . 










86 


FIDELITY 










. 89 


ELEGY OF THE PAST 










88 


THE SIREN 










91 


CONCEPTION OF A SPIRIT . 










94 


THE WORLD 










. 96 


FRIENDSHIP . 










97 


TO THE WOOD THRUSH 










. 98 


LINES . . . . 










100 



1 



JUPITER 

Serene and perfect orb ! thou art the eye 
That watches o'er the dreaming pastureland 

When pageant day fades from the evening sky, 
And darkness passes a cool, mystic hand, 

Across the heavens. 

The sleeping hills, wrapped in a veil of night. 

And silver brooks that sight amid the grasses 

Are palely lit with thy celestial light; 

While mists arise and gather in soft masses 

Strangely illumined by those fragile beams. 

Soothed and at rest, the drowsy world 

Falls under the sweet spell of Morpheus' power 

Who once again, with wings unfurled, 

71 



^2 JUPITER 

Descends from far Olympus with slumberous dower, 
And golden dreams. 
Tranquil thy glance, free from all earthly glare, 
Art, too, the Eye of Love hallowed by seraphic 
purity ? 
Shining through mortal shade with beauty rare. 
Or yet perchance they radiance is eternal surety 
Of ended strife and calm beatitude. 



CONSOLATION 

Repine not in the melancholy hours 

Of day's shorn youth and faded bloom, 
Night comes but to renew thine own sweet powers 

And soothe with tender, gentle gloom 
Those thoughts tumultuous that beating on thy brain 

Seek to answer their vain questionings: — 
But, like as restless birds which to and fro again 

Circle the heavens in long wanderings 
Return at last to rest in forest deeps; 
So cease to grieve, for darkness the dawn keeps. 



IZ 



THE GODS OF WINTER 

Behind a mask of clear, transparent skies 

The gods of winter seek to hide their chiUing smiles ; 

And wrapt themselves in deep obscurity, 

Holding close mantles of frosted purity: 

But now, as night draws near, 

They are no longer false or insincere. 

While from their eyes falls many a frozen tear. 



TO A FRIEND 

Dear friend, ere I forget our chosen childhood realms 
Old age will have enwrapped my memory in misty 

spell, 
For still I think of those tall, graceful elms 
That bent their shade across the valley well, 
Of those long, happy, thoughtless days 
Which now are but as passing sunbeams' rays. 

Do you remember the little pond, secluded and cool, 
Where lazy gold-fish swam like brilliant shadows in 

a pool, 
And the gnarled orchard, bathed with mellow light 
As the day waned towards the advancing night, 
Or yet the meadow, broad sloping from the hemlock 

wood 
And the gate nearby where we so often stood? 



75 



76 TO A FRIEND 

On summer evenings when the falHng dew 
From the mild earth a subtle fragrance drew 
Then the rich clarity of the western sky 
Would deepen its pure lustre and not die. 
Until the dusky twilight gently crept 
Into the arms of another day that slept. 

Yet all these sleeping hours of the Past, 

Awaken from their slumbers when at last 

Most cherished memories are fraught 

With those realities which wrought 

Such happiness ; while transient laughs and tears, 

Come back again with drifting bygone years. 



FAREWELL TO SUMMER 

Farewell to summer and the long, long ripened 
hours 
That gleam and wane across its vernal sea, 
Farewell to sweet repose in fragrant bowers, 
And dreams Elysian, and bliss and thee, 
Ah ! Memory, comfort me. 

The page is turned ; a withered petal falls, 

And summer'gone ! One brief-run, struggling race, 

One parting glance that quickens and enthralls, 
Then onward into darkened unknown space. 
Ah ! Memory, but once to see thy face. 



-n 



^ 



TWILIGHT 

Pale sister of the Dawn! Wan bride of Night! 

Thou mournest for day's doom 

Midst sweet-pervaded gloom, 
And from the earth an opalescent light 
Ebbs slowly as thy misty eyelids close, 
Thou wondrous dream ! Dear Vision of Repose ! 

Thy dew-stained cheek pressed to a darkening breast 
Paler and still more palely glows, 
The world drifts on to deep, long-needed rest 
And calmness steals upon its aching woes. — 
Thou wraith within my soul who comes at last 

To soothe the pain and anguish of the past ! 

78 



TWILIGHT 79 

The sunset spark burns out. With shrouded brow 
And hands that mystic grope thou turn away, 
To seek a pure, undimmed supernal ray, 
Thy child, the evening star, awaits thee now. 
Love, Peace and Friendship in the human heart, 
When thou hast gone wilt they, too, depart? 



ADDRESSED TO THE STATUE OF 
MARS, AT THE VILLA LUDOVISI 

ROME 

Deity of the Sword ! and Flaming Death ! 

Ruler of strife and passion in man's heart, 
Dark Conqueror whose fierce, immortal breath 

Was once harsh striken by Athene's dart ; 
Does this wild temper sit upon thy brow? 

Haloed by curly locks that rippling lave 
Its mute serenity? whose Hps appear to murmur a 
sweet vow 

And chastened features are most subtly grave, 
Whose musing attitude and god-like hands at rest 

Rebuke all tumult or the spirit's ire 

As though a lovely peace flowed through thy breast 

80 



ADDRESSED TO THE STATUE OF MARS 8i 

Ungalled by anger. Yet in that arched nostril lurks 
a fire 
Consuming deadly wtih a cruel lust, 

O, Mars, the zenith flares and world grows red 
Before thy glance ; no weapons rust, 

When sweeping down a vengeful rage is spread 
Midst human kind. But now in revery its fury sleeps 
As voiceless thunder sunk in heaven's deeps. 



REMORSE 

When by some word or thoughtless jest 
There passes o'er thy face a cloud of pain, 
As though thy dearest sentiments but held in vain 

Fled emptily away, and Love's bright crest, 

Once splendor beaming, a paler light now threw 

Across life's shaded plain ; or memories pulsing slow 
Were wearied with their fruitless overflow, 

And sought concealment in the place they grew ; 

Ah ! when in after hours I think of thee, 

Thus wandering with an open wound that bleeds 
A drop of bitterness upon the trust which needs 

Most passionate cherishing, — ah ! woe is me ! 

How anguish and remorse swiftly and darkly sweep 
Through this repentant soul ! and dumb despair 
Languishes in a heart, wretched and bare. 

Then do I seek forgiveness, and finding, — weep. 



82 



SHADOWS 

How melancholy is an autumn dawn, 
Redolent, misty, sunless and forlorn, 
With cold leaves sighing as they slowly fall 
Or silence brooding like a withered pall 
On earth and sky. 
And the hours gliding by. 

There came a gaunt and listless dream athwart the 

morn 

And Shadows in the forest born 

Crept whispering ; their voices lulled to sleep 

The zephyrs, — midst a breathless deep 

They wandered, and with low lamenting cries 

Sought for lost Summer and his starry eyes. 

83 



84 SHADOWS 

Grieving, they lingered by a Naiad's side 
Who faded lay as she had died, 
In a chilled glen once sweet with flowers' bloom 
But now, alas, a realm of frozen gloom — 
And where Aurora shed her dewy tear, 
Seared leaves were wafted o'er the Wood Nymph's 
bier. 

A Faun, starved, shrunken, reeled wailing through the 

wood. 
Grave and pitying the shadows stood 
And watched his anguished flight, 
Into the sombre arms of death and night. 
So one by one the stricken Spirits fled, 
And on the Autumn's lips a pallor spread. 

Once on the graven hills an amber flame 
Wrapped round their steely images, — then came 
Dank vapors fraught with perfumed spells 
And drifting in bereaved dells. 
Teemed from some barren pool, or lay 
Wreathed on the brow of sad-departing day. 



SHADOWS , 85 

Waste and decay unchained, 
Sent forth a famished host and drained 
Youth's treasured cup; no mortal wept 
For the Oreades that in the mountains slept 
A last ambrosial sleep, nor did Despair unbind 
Its brazen fetters from the universal mind. 

Alone I waited as the twiHght sank to rest, 
And a yellow gloaming lit the sullen west, — 
Desolate music through my senses swam; 

And long I waited. 
For One who never came, — only the Winter sated 
With dirges drear my listening ear, 
And the Shadows ! Ah, they, too, were ever near. 



TIME 

Time laughed with Youth and said, 

**Be mirthful; let a joyous sea 

Swallow the future and its destiny 
Nor mourn for summer's bloom when it is dead." 

Time smiled serenely on Maturity 

And spake in accents sure and calm and sweet, 
''Fear not the multitude of change that thou wilt 
meet, 

Love never dies but lives unto eternity." 

Time turned a cold, relentless face 

Upon old age, low muttering, "Thy levity is done, 

Come, thou art mine, the radiant sun 
Of earthly dawns has vanished into space." 

But then the mortal lifted up with scorn 

A grief bowed head and cried, 

"Begone, thou vain deceiver. Hope and Love abide 
Forever in the soul that from heaven is born." 

So back into a dreary cell Time crept. 
Cowed and overcome; its empty threat 
Fled to oblivion and there met 
Destruction, for bound in faith that human spirit 
slept. 

86 



FIDELITY 

Thy pain is mine, beloved; thy tears are sown 
Within a poignant heart that like thine own 
Bleeds its dull agony upon a wasted dearth 
Of hope and youth and long dead mirth. 

Thy solitude is mine ; when thou hast turned away 

From the sad world and its tormented day 

Thy thoughts seek sweet communion in some calm 

retreat 
Where mine would linger also till they meet. 

Thy faith is mine ; eternal trust will shine 
With changeless lustre, evermore divine. 
And though wild tumult round us rage and sweep 
Thy pledge and mine serenity will keep. 

Thy joy is mine; the ecstasy that brings 

Music to thy dear breast within another sings 

An answering melody. Such is Love's sign, 

In life, in sleep, in death, beloved, my soul is thine. 

87 



ELEGY TO THE PAST 

Old Days ! art thou forgotten ? Hast thy sweetness 
fled 
Into a misty labyrinth of change? 
Have all thy hopes been scattered, withered, dead, 

Upon that restless flood so vague and strange, 
Which bears the dawn unto its sunset bed 

And plunges day and night into the range 
Of human thought? Have all the flowers that thy 

gardens wore 
Grown faded, dim and lusterless, wan memories of 
yore? 

Can I forget? Not when thy page, — 

Scrolled by a hand beloved, — lies open here. 

No balm like thine can comfort or assuage 

The yearning that exists without a tear, 

88 



ELEGY TO THE PAST 89 

Silent and deep, born from some perfumed age 

Where once a golden temple youth did rear 
O'er-looking life's bright, vain, deceiving sea, 
For then from all but joy and mirth the heart was free. 

Oft do I turn to thee, O changeless Memory ! 

The veil is raised, the skies again are clear, 
Symbols of spring and bluebirds' melody 

Float on the drowsy air. Ah, thou art near, 
Swift winged, omnipotent, defying destiny, 

How can love barren grow? How can the present 
fear 
To-morrow when by one's side thou stand, 
Guiding predestined joy and pain with thy immortal 
hand ? 

On many evenings when the twilight threw 
A breathless peace across the fevered earth 

Thy loveliness has shone, unchanging true. 

And robins warbled with the same blithe mirth 



90 ELEGY TO THE PAST 

As in those gloamings long ago. The hue 

Which flows within the west before day's dearth 
Ebbs out serenely slow ; again I hear 
Voices that echo from remembrance dear. 

Old Days ! around me draw thy mystic spell 
Embower sleep with those forgotten dreams. 
Open thy portals when I seek to dwell 

Far from the world and its delusive beams, 
Live on, be happy, let no storm dispel 
The rapture that finds harbor on thy shore, 
Where lave the tides which once my childhood bore. 



THE SIREN 



A Ballade. 



"Through the night she calls to men, luring them down to 
their death." 

Swept by a brooding calm the sea 

Lay glazed and still, its intensity 

Merged against a bar of gold 

That spanned the horizon's sullen brink, 

Where clouds hung gray and haggard and cold 

And seemed from themselves to cower and shrink. 

Idly on the swells rode a bark, 

With a fisherman lonely adrift in the dark. 

He was young and his eyes were a steadfast blue 

Like the tranquil depths of a summer sky, 

For he loved a maid and his heart was true. 

Fear smote him not at the storm's wild cry. 

91 



92 THE SIREN 

On ! on ! it came, the surging foam 
Leaped o'er the waves with a hissing moan, 
And the craft was driven, a stricken thing, 

Through the billows that round it savagely flung 
Their seething crests ; but a peaceful wing 
Over the youth and his peril hung. 

Near the raging shore on a sunken rock 
Sat a Siren fair and she sought to mock 
The lashing fury of the gale 
With songs and eerie mirth. Her hair 
Streamed in the wind and her face was pale, 
Paler than mist in a woodland lair. 

Her voice fell at last on the fisherman's ears, 
He started up, beset with fears, — 
Listening again, the sweet call came, 
And a passion flared in his shaken breast. 
For in rapturous accents she spoke his name, 
And the words drifted calm o'er the sea's unrest. 



THE SIREN 93 

''I come !" he cried, and swung the prow, 
An icy sweat stood on his brow. 
There was a crash ! a hideous roar ! 
As his Hps met her's in a cHnging kiss, 
Fragments and tumult around them tore, 
A soul fled out, and she laughed with bliss. 

On the humble floor of a cottage room 
That hidden lay 'midst the night's deep gloom 
Knelt a woman ; against her anguished heart 
She pressed a golden curl ; by the door 
She watched and prayed and lingered apart, 
But her lover came not ; ah, nevermore ! 



CONCEPTION OF A SPIRIT 

Thou wert the moments that wove with bHss a day, 
Thou wert the essence born of lovely flowers, 
Living like them in sun-distilled bowers 

Fragile and beautiful, — an ethereal ray. 

The dawn was in thy glance, the night's repose, 
Rested upon thy brow, and gentle dreams 
Passed with thy smile as tender noon-tide beams, 

When evening opes her arms them to enclose. 

Thou wert the strength of sea and firmament. 

Facing the gusts that toss each human life. 

Loving and suffering when the hour was rife, 

Braving with calm the wounds dark time had rent. 

94 



CONCEPTION OF A SPIRIT 95 

And yet thou wert more aerial than a butterfly, 
That tenderly upon a summer eve, 
Kisses each blossom ere it soar and leave 
The slumbering earth to seek a moon-beamed sky. 

Sweet Spirit ! thus thy wings did bear thee on, 
This mortal desert and its misery, 
Have sunk behind absolved in destiny. 

For with thy beauty shining thou wert — gone. 



THE WORLD 

The world's a monument built upon the brain, 
A transient breath fraught with joy and pain, 
Struggling in one, in one diffused again, 
As link by link Time knits the broken chain. 



96 



FRIENDSHIP 

Bond of Eternal Youth ! unswayed by time, 

Or slow decaying change or transient moments flung 

To folly. Reaper of trust, affinity sublime, 

Which poets through immortal years have sung, — 

Wind close thy power 'round each living heart, 

And of each breath become a perfect part. 



97 



TO THE WOOD THRUSH 

Minister of Solitude ! lone rhapsodist, I love thee ! 
Thou whose melody is like a tear unshed, 

Whose notes are reveries awakened from the dead 
Of Evening Shades. Ah, sing- to me! 

Dost make more heavenly the fantasies 

That glide with silent feet around me here? 
Dost make thy mother Nature doubly dear 

Because thy song o'erflows with liquid mysteries? 

O yes ! The one who loves thee well will wait 

Far in the recess of some scented vale, 

And there, 'midst peace obscured, list to thy tale, 

A tale which told throws open the soul's gate. 

98 



TO THE WOOD THRUSH 99 

Shadow and sunlight, ecstasy and grief, 
Blend in thy quivering breast. How long I seek 
To hear once more the voice of Summer speak, 

And in sweet loneliness to find relief. 

Art thou an aerial lute ? Sing that I may adore ! — 

Thou pulsing music — throbbing ray ! 

Dropped as some star amid a dusky way, 
Sing to me ! I ask no more ! no more ! 

LOFa 



LINES 

When dawn awakes to kiss the pallid sky, 
When noon with dreamy tread glides slowly by, 
When the swift hours are sinking in the West 
And weary day seeks slumber on night's breast ; — 
I find in each a beauty, perfect, rare, 
Because thy image is reflected there. 



lOO 



AHH 6 U;U6 



I ^ 



